To Edgar
by Kissing Irony
Summary: [FFVI] Edgar falls into a state of depression, and Sabin sends for the one person who could possibly make him happy. [EdgarxLocke, shounen ai]


Whew, this is Nikki, and I'm back to the writing world with this little piece of shounen-ai goodness. The pairing is EdgarxLocke, requested by my dear Mina Lightstar. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VI, or its characters. I have the game sitting on my saxophone case, but that's about it.

---

To Edgar, Locke was an enigma.

The thief had a way to open hearts the way he picked locks. Edgar didn't quite understand how Locke worked like that. And he just couldn't comprehend how anyone could open themselves to the world without fear. Maybe there was just something about Locke that drew out the best in people around him. Yet, there was something special, something unidentifiable about him that made Edgar spend countless nights standing at the highest tower of Figaro castle contemplating.

To put it simply, Locke had stolen his heart.

Under the glow of the moon, Edgar rehearsed a memory in his mind, reliving the vision with the most acute of senses. He could recall the scent of the freshwater of the lake with all of its crispness, and even more so, the water drenching Locke's still-clothed body, his slender, battle-worn hands running through his sopping blond hair, the white clothing that was suddenly almost nonexistent to the eyes. Edgar, at the moment, wanted nothing more than to tear the cloth off his body and taste the water and the unique flavor that only Locke could possess.

The distant sound of a bell snapped the King of Figaro out of his reminiscence, and reminded him of the reality surrounding him. The tone of the bell struck twelve times, signaling midnight had come over the lonely castle.

And only at night would Edgar realize of how much he simply despised having his castle centered in the middle of a wasteland. He knew that it was much safer for his people to have the capability to escape if the need comes about, just as they did when Kefka attacked the castle. But that didn't stop him from wishing he could spread his wings and fly out of that hot desert and explore the world just as he did two years ago. It was a feeling he had suppressed, yet he had allowed Sabin's feeling to soar off into the mountains many years ago.

The King held the gold coin into the moonlight, silently recalling the night where Sabin was freed from the drama of succession, and his own fate of being sealed to a kingdom for the rest of his life. Sabin had come to him after the walking disaster that went by the name of Kefka had fallen, and they shared a long and much needed talk, brother to brother.

"Brother?"

Edgar understood that there were many things left unsaid between the two of them, especially after their long separation.

"Sabin… Now that it's finally over–"

"Thank you."

Edgar was baffled. "Thank you for what?"

Sabin replied simply, "For giving me freedom."

Their conversation went long into the night, with many drinks provided by Relm, who had taken on the role of bartender for the celebration of the defeat of Kefka, as she was too young to drink herself. By the time they were done, it was already three in the morning. Once Sabin had made the decision to retire for the night, Edgar found himself standing alone in the game room of the Falcon, rather drunk, and rather lonely.

So he decided to pay a visit to Locke.

The King dimmed the lights, and slowly made his way down the stairs, swaying as he walked, laughing softly to himself when he would miss a step and barely avoid toppling down the stairs. He silently rejoiced when he made it to the flat surface of the lower floor, and stumbled as softly as a drunken man could to the door of Locke's room. His hands clutched at the edge of the door to support him, and a thought in the back of his head dully stated that he would never do something like this while sober. But the thought was quickly negated by the newer and more crucial thought that Locke's bed was vacant.

Edgar had half a mind to continue his search for the thief, but found he was swaying a little too much to cover much distance. Before he took a chance to think the move out, he was already upon the bed, nuzzling his face into the pillow, drowning in the scent of the treasure hunter he longed for.

The King chuckled softly to himself in remembrance. The following morning, he awoke with a throbbing pain encompassing his entire head. It hurt to think, let alone see. Yet his blurred vision made out the silhouette of a lean body beside him. He blinked away the sleep from his eyes to meet the eyes of Locke, who he had startled awake with his moan of pain.

With his charming smile, Locke murmured, "Sleep well?"

From their later discussion, Edgar discovered that Locke had come home and found him in his bed, muttering nonsense and hogging the sheets. He didn't know what else to do with the drunken King lying in front of him, so he simply made room and fell asleep beside him.

Edgar's cheeks had a light blush spread across them throughout the encounter. He was supposed to be a clever and witty charmer of all women, so it would be assumed that something such as this would not faze him, yet Locke had a certainly been able to make even the womanizing King Edgar of Figaro embarrassed. That was a feat nobody had been able to accomplish in the twenty-seven years of his life.

But he couldn't hide it; he wanted Locke. He wanted his body, his heart, everything he had to offer. And for Edgar, that kind of want is something he inevitably would feel self-conscious about.

Before Edgar had more time to consider this, hot breath drifted over the sensitive skin of his neck, and a question rolled innocently off the tongue that was nearly touching him.

"Oh my, what would the handsome and noble Edgar Roni Figaro be doing alone on such a beautiful night?"

The King could admit that he was startled, but the very approach that Locke had gone with had stirred more than that. With all the self-control he could muster, he smoothly replied, "Good evening, Locke. You couldn't have greeted me like a normal human being, could you?"

Locke's lips puckered, as if he had swallowed something sour. In a mocking voice, he replied. "Your Majesty, are you telling me I'm something other than a human? I'm surely not an Esper, nor a monster. From what I can tell, I'm one-hundred percent human."

"Very funny. And don't call me 'Your Majesty.' I dislike it when even the Figaro soldiers refer to me as that," Edgar grumbled. He really did despise formalities. Hearing one of his best friends and potential love interests call him that made him wince internally.

Locke gave a wink to the irritated King, signifying that he was simply entertaining himself. "Sabin sent a letter that said you had been down lately. He thought having me around would make you a little perkier."

Edgar shook his head immediately once Locke had finished his statement. Sabin was very likely prancing around the kitchen in the castle, only a floor below where he and Locke were standing now, giddy with the knowledge that he was setting his brother up.

Locke continued, interrupting Edgar's train of thought with, "I always thought you'd be the type of guy who liked the night."

"You've got it backwards. You are the one who likes night. All those shadows to hide in are wonderful to a thief, am I correct?" Edgar grinned a little, knowing exactly what the man would say in response.

The thief coughed. "It's treasure hunter."

That was another bullet on the list of things Edgar liked about Locke. He always tried to make unappealing things seem better by covering them with less negative words. Locke had always made it easier to get over certain terrible events in his life by making it out to be something a lot less devastating. He appreciated it more than anything. Even the year he first spent in the World of Ruin, not knowing if any of his companions survived, it was the thought of Locke that brought him enough courage to take back Figaro Castle.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Edgar? You're much quieter than you were the last time I saw you," Locke said with slight concern.

Edgar shook his head. "I have a lot to think about."

Locke paused. "So, tell me."

He moved to speak, but hesitated, and immediately closed it. "It's not… proper."

"I don't care about proper. We never cared about what's appropriate in the past. Why should we now?" Locke insisted, but ended with a murmur of, "just tell me how you feel."

There was no use in biting it back any longer. Locke was a persistent bastard. (#33 on Edgar's list of things he liked about Locke.)

Edgar spoke almost viciously, "I hate being King. Sometimes, I really hate this place. I love the people of Figaro, but I want out of this godforsaken castle, and even worse is that if I hear another person of royalty tell me that I should find a wife to produce an heir to the throne, I may have to pull out the old air anchor."

If the person hearing that were anyone other than Locke, their jaws would have dropped to the floor, and their brains would have combusted at the mere thought of Edgar being displeased with his position as the King of Figaro. Yet, Locke calmly set his sight at the midnight sky, and admitted, "I thought that might've been the case."

"You knew all along?"

"Yeah. Something didn't seem right. You never seemed happy." Locke turned to Edgar and grinned. "Why don't you stop being so reserved for a change? You may be the King, but you're still human."

Edgar sighed. "These nobles don't realize it, though. And what makes them think I want a wife?"

"What? The charming King of Figaro, not wanting a wife?"

Edgar bit his bottom lip. "Because… I don't like women."

He was surprised to find Locke chuckling, "What a façade you've put on! You pretend to charm all these women, because…?" He trailed off.

"I did it to put off suspicions. Nobody wants a king who desires the company of another man in bed at night," Edgar quickly recovered. Though, it wasn't that much of a recovery, considering that he was still telling another man (one who he was extremely infatuated with) of his sexual preferences.

The side of Locke's body brushed up against Edgar as he passed him by, to move to the ledge of the tower. Edgar's breath caught from the physical contact, and he could swear that small touch had sparked a flame within. In the most unusual manner, Locke's eyes bore into Edgar until he couldn't even think. The thief replied with a voice was hushed, and taunting, "I do."

Edgar found himself drawing closer to Locke, until he was within range for his fingers to play along the smooth skin of his cheek.

"Is that so?"

Locke grinned. "It would seem so."

Edgar saw this moment to be the most opportune for covering those inviting lips with his own, and was nearly there when a striking young voice interrupted.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty."

Locke quickly moved away from Edgar, and the King nearly whimpered aloud at the loss of body heat. Yet he understood the need for composure, and quickly responded, "Yes, what is it?"

One of the Figaro guards stood before the two, fiddling with the uniform cap, before continuing, his previous statement. "Your chambers are ready for whenever you are prepared to retire."

Edgar found this a little peculiar, as it was deemed universal knowledge that his chambers were always prepared for sleeping. Unless…

"What's your name? You look rather familiar."

"It's Tetsuo, sir. I am sure you have just seen me around the castle."

Edgar didn't believe it, but before he could respond, the guard had turned and walked away.  
He wanted to call out, yet after a quick mental inventory of priorities, he decided against it. It didn't change the fact, though, that for a split second, he could've sworn this "Tetsuo" had winked at him.

Edgar shook his head, and figured it wasn't important enough for more consideration. He wouldn't have had time, either way, because Locke's fingers soon became tangled in his long blond hair. The self-acclaimed treasure hunter whispered huskily, "Let's continue from where we left off."

And continue they did.

---

In the dining room of Figaro Castle, Terra removed the stuffy hat of the guard uniform. She began to pull off the remainder of the gear when Sabin entered, a grin plastered on his face.

"Did it work?" he asked hopefully, crossing his fingers.

Terra returned the grin. "I caught them about to kiss. I'm sure Edgar caught on with the comment about his chambers. Did you put the oil in his room?"

"Yes, I surely did." Sabin assisted her in removing the rest of the uniform he had borrowed, and returned it to its rightful owner. When he returned, Terra had two bottles of the finest wine Figaro had to offer waiting on the table.

"A toast!" she chirped, passing him the bottle closest to her.

"To matchmaking?"

Terra pressed her fingers to her temple thoughtfully. "No, that's not it…"

"Then what?"

She smiled.

"To Edgar and Locke."


End file.
